Someone wake up Xavier Bardem and get him an espresso. Several espressos. Somebody, anybody, turn the lights on. Not awful, except for Xavier Bardem and everything Lin Manuel added. A dutifully formulaic film, the Mermaid charms, the Prince bores, the crab annoys. Try reading the Hans Christian Anderson version.
About the Creator
The Feminine Face and American Roots of Young Russian Literature
Toward the end of the 2010s, many new authors emerged on the Russian literary scene. It was the voices of writers in their thirties that made themselves heard most strongly. Born at the twilight of the Soviet Union, they had absorbed its painful legacy with their mother’s milk before their lives took an unexpected turn. Barbies, Transformers, Disney comics, action films on VHS, the PlayStation, and finally MTV, along with access to the endless stream of information on the Internet, entered their childhood with the fall of the Iron Curtain, overturning the rigid cultural system shaped by the Soviets.
By Anastasia Tsarkovaabout 14 hours ago in Critique
The Missing Ingredient
The first time I saw her, she was wearing a velvety, red ribbon in her hair. She carried a small leather backpack everywhere. She searched the forest by turning stones, checking beneath shrubs, listening to the wind as if it might carry an answer.
By Imola Tótha day ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
guess it's not worth seeing